


The Mystery of the Failed Suppressants

by RomancebyFaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Hints of Dub Con, No Male Pregnancy, No mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomancebyFaye/pseuds/RomancebyFaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has been living as a Beta ever since he had a terrible experience with his last heat. So why did he just wake up on the very cusp of one? And it's one that threatens to be just as horrifying as the last. What will Sherlock do when he arrives back at 221B Baker Street to find the Beta he has been living with is not a Beta at all but an Omega? And not only that, but an Omega in the midst of a fear-scented heat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery of the Failed Suppressants

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first toe dip into Omegaverse. I hope I haven't completely bungled it up. I have to say, I enjoyed writing this one. It's nice to let out certain character's animalistic sides, especially since they have the lovely ability to clash with that characters usual behaviors. Hope you enjoy!

The Mystery of the Failed Suppressants

* * *

  
  
John woke, his body so hot he felt like steam was pouring off his skin. The sheets were tangled around his legs and he had fallen to the floor hard enough to send a jolt of agony through his old wound. His eyes scanned the room frantically, the lingering edges of his nightmare telling him he was in danger.  
  
He blinked sweat out of his eyes as his heart pounded like a bass drum, the scent of blood in his nostrils and the sound of gunfire ringing in his ears. Even as his eyes took in the familiar scene of his room at 221B Baker Street, his skin could feel the prickle of heat and the inescapable grit of the never ending sand of Afghanistan.  
  
The awareness did nothing to calm him as he realized with dawning terror that he was minutes away from being in a full blown - entirely unexpected - heat.  
  
This was all wrong. He was on suppressants; he had been on them since he entered the army.  
  
He had only had one heat since then - horrible, agonizingly painful, nightmarish, and terror filled - which his body had been forced into due to the trauma of getting shot. He had spent it alone and injured in a room in the hospital specifically for unbonded omegas. The fact that the room was made just for that purpose had done nothing to chase away the fear the heat fever had brought; his body’s awareness too close to another fevered state that had nearly cost him his life.  
  
He had been unable to pleasure himself, unable to make use of any of the items provided for assistance with heats. Instead he had cowered on the bed, his slick pooling under him as he crouched in the farthest corner of the room.  In spite of everything available that an omega could need, he had shrank to some horrible feedback loop in his mind, unresponsive to the Alpha pheromones being distilled into the air. His mind couldn’t let go of the very close brush with death that had cost him his career in the military. In fact, he had responded so badly the beta at the hospital who was a specialist in Omega Heat Care had resorted to calling in a specially trained, unbonded alpha to try and bring him back from wherever his mind had retreated.

Later, John had been told he had attacked the alpha, dislocating his shoulder and nearly breaking his arm before he slammed his head into the wall hard enough to give him a concussion. After that, they had sedated John, afraid he might harm himself or someone else, but even that hadn’t been enough to free his mind from the endless parade of blood, pain, and fear of death that pulled at him for remaining days of his heat.  
  
When the heat haze had finally broken, all John could remember of it was the metallic taste of blood and the cloying smell of decay. He had apologized to the alpha he had injured, shamed that even an alpha’s presence had not been enough to calm the omega in himself. He had expected anger from the man, even to be ignored, but instead he had looked at John with pity.  
  
That heat had taken the hope of finding a bondmate now that he was no longer wanted in the army. That very heat had cemented his resolve to never face another one like it. From then on he had taken the drugs religiously, canceling his scent and ending any chances for entering heat. From then on he had resolved himself to live as a Beta.  
  
Only, the abject horror he was experiencing in this very moment told him he was doomed to experience that terrible heat all over again; and like last time he was being forced into it without his will.  
  
He sobbed as he frantically kicked away the sheets tangled around his legs, desperate to leave the sanctuary that had somehow been invaded. This was where he kept his pills, the pills that had failed him, and even in his heat haze he recognized what that implied. His logical processes were overridden, his brain forcing him to leave the familiar safety and security of his room with a fear driven litany of _Not Safe Not Safe Not Safe_ swirling round and round his skull.  
  
Thoughts streaked across his brain like quicksilver: How? Why? Who? But in the heat haze he wasn’t able to grasp them past the implication that he was absolutely not safe. He couldn’t chase the questions down to the fine point of their meaning as he would have been able if he were at his full mental capacity. All they told him at the moment was that someone had altered or interfered with his territory and left him stripped down in the most vulnerable way an omega could be left.  
  
Every omega gave off a scent to entice during their heats. While the baseline was the same - a biological cocktail genetically predisposed to call to their alpha counterparts - each omega’s scent was also filled with differences that were unique as a fingerprint. Right now John’s bedroom was filling with his scent; however, the pheromones unique to himself - theoretically designed to attract the most compatible alpha - were being perverted by the stale and cloying taste of fear.  
  
He could feel it pouring off him in waves. The scent was full of the sense of complete dread, pushing his body to try and flee from the room to safety. He scrambled for the door, ignoring the burn in his abused knees as they scraped across the floor painfully. His hand slipped on the handle as John scrabbled with it, his fingers not working like they should. For a terrible moment, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to get it open, but then his trembling fingers found just enough purchase to give the knob enough of a twist so the door swung wide.  
  
He shot into the hall, clapping the door shut behind him as he scooted his back to the wall. He held his breath, listening for any hints of pursuit, his training in the army kicking in as he instinctively kept his body low to the ground while he scanned once again for threats. Finding none, he let the air out before gasping more back in to replenish the oxygen his anxious body was using.  
  
With the air came a lifeline.  
  
He was filled with a scent he lived in everyday, usually no more than a pleasant reminder that he was living alongside a wonderfully smelling alpha. The scent he had occasionally dreamed about and then reminisced upon with a slight feeling of guilt. A scent that he had known he would never fully be able to totally engross himself in because of his absolute need for suppressants.  
  
It hit him full on now, screaming _Safety Security Protection_ and he drank it in with each gasping breath. His body responded, pushing John into movement as he sought out the source, following it to the heaviest concentration. Each breath chased away a bit of the terror, leading him unerringly to Sherlock’s bedroom door. Without a thought for anything other than his own need for reassurance, he once again scrabbled with a door handle, his fingers a bit more steady this time now that some of the fear had abated.  
  
John still slammed it shut behind him and threw the lock, unable to shake the feeling of unease that skated along his spine. He scooted back towards the bed, a trail of fear scented slick left behind from his sodden pajamas bottoms. He sat, his back pressed against the bed as he stared at the door wide-eyed. His nose told him he was alone; his flat mate currently absent from the room. But his reassuring scent was there, barely an arm’s length away.  
  
John stripped off his clothes, his skin prickling with the need to be free of them. He tossed them away, heedless of where they landed as he dove into the bed. He grabbed the covers, pulling them up and over him even though he was sweating buckets. He was encased completely int the smell of security. It smelled so good, so right.  
  
He wallowed in that perfect Alpha scent.  
  
He twisted, arching his entire body back and forth in the linens. He rubbed his face and neck everywhere, pressing his aching scent glands to the sheets, desperate to smell himself in his alpha’s nest. His alpha’s scent encased him, chasing away some the acrid taste of his own nightmares and replacing them with a latent desire. Their scents mingled, a minute nod to the way they would when bonded.  
  
John began to calm, though not completely, and he became more aware of what he was doing. Semi coherent thoughts began to pierce through the retreating fog of terror and anxiety, replaced with new ones.  
  
Sherlock didn’t know John was an omega, or if he did, he had never made any comment on the fact. He had never made any indication that he wanted an omega, much less that he wanted John. He was also sure to be shocked - and very likely disgusted - at finding John here in his bed in a full on heat. John knew that when Sherlock returned from wherever he was to find John, the alpha would do one of two things: reject John outright, or not.  
  
Either way, John knew this was very possibly the end of their friendship. Sherlock would never forgive him if they bonded; he had made the fact he had no desire to do so abundantly clear that first night at Angelo’s. If Sherlock rejected him outright and left, John wasn’t sure what would happen now that he had been ousted as an omega.  
  
God, what if Sherlock thought he had done this on purpose?  
  
He lie there in misery, comforted by the scent of someone he would love to bond with, and sure the owner of that scent would want nothing of the sort.  
  
It wasn’t enough to chase him from the bed.  
  
*****  
  
  
Mycroft followed Sherlock to the front door, pausing on the stoop as Sherlock pulled out his key. No doubt his meddling brother was going to follow him inside and bother him for a cup of tea.  
  
“Why are you here Mycroft? I’m sure there are far more pressing matters for you to attend to than poking you fat nose into our affairs.”  
  
“Really, with the fat jokes again Sherlock. It’s disappointing.”  
  
Sherlock pushed the door open, stepping inside with Mycroft on his heels. He was on the third step and reaching to pull his scarf off when the smell hit him.  
  
Ripe, delicious omega. And not just any omega; the scent was stronger, amplified a hundred fold by a heat, but it was the unmistakable scent of John.    
  
Sherlock whirled on Mycroft, not caring that his brother had his own omega. All Sherlock knew was his omega was in heat, and the bitter taste on his tongue told him John was vulnerable and frightened for some reason.  
  
An instinct he had never felt before - in spite of being near other omegas in such a state - launched him into action as he bared his teeth. He threw himself from his higher vantage point on the steps, catching a surprised Mycroft before he could get both feet in the door - but not before a look of astonished recognition crossed his features as he scented an omega in heat.  
  
Sherlock shoved him out the door, slamming it behind him. He only became aware of the savage growl in his chest once the other alpha was safely outside of his and his omega’s territory.  
  
He turned and bolted up the stairs, the scent becoming stronger and more compelling with each step. Behind him Mycroft was shouting at the door, but Sherlock paid him no heed. He burst into the flat, sniffing the air as he did and finding a thread of terror there. He crouched low to the ground, searching for any scent or clue to lead him to the threat that could have caused the sweet scent to turn so sour.  
  
He burst into John’s room, a rising panic filling him at finding if full of the sharp scent of fear. He dropped, scenting soured slick in the bedding. The trail wasn’t hard to follow; more fear scented slick leading him to his own bedroom door. His chest swelled knowing that John had run to Sherlock’s most personal territory for protection. It galled him to know he hadn’t been there when that protection had been sought.  
  
Sherlock shook his head, knowing his usual mental acuity was failing him, had been since the moment he stepped off of Baker Street. It nearly evaporated now, as he was filled only with the need to protect, the need to comfort, the need to mate.  
  
He could hear John through the door, soft squelches and little rough sounds of distress. He rumbled deep in his chest as he tried to open the door, only to find his way barred. The tiny part of his logic that was left screamed that John might very well not want him to enter, causing him to pull back from kicking the door in.  
  
He snarled, pacing back and forth in front of the barrier, whiffs of pheromones seemingly custom made to tear his rational from him leaking through the cracks in the door. Unable to stop himself, he dropped to his knees, breathing deep from the gap at the floor.  
  
Dear god, he had never smelled anything like it. It was trust and love and sprints down back alleys, sun warmed skin and soft worn jumpers, it was temperance and pride and a hand so steady it could be held in moments of danger.    
  
It was everything John was to Sherlock and he could not betray that. He ripped himself away from the teasing scent,  entering into a terrible struggle with his body. His mind was rebelling, chanting _Mine Mine Needs me Can’t leave Must protect_ even as he planted his foot a step further from the door. It was frightening. Sherlock had heard about how hard resisting an omega in heat could be, but he had always scoffed at the idea.  
  
He had been unfortunate enough to be in the sights of a few plotting omega’s and their families, and as such had had a few rather ripe omega’s practically thrust into his lap. Every time his body had responded, but his mind had never been impaired; he had been more than able to resist, even able to insult and - on one occasion - fight them off.  
  
This was different, John wasn’t some omega trying to trap him. Up until only moments ago he had thought the Doctor was a beta. Now he could see the signs, John was always in his room at some point of the precise window of 9:33 a.m. to 9:49 a.m. It was the only time that was absolutely concrete in his schedule - obviously the time he took his suppressants - not to mention his faint scent, faint even for a beta. That could be chalked up to the suppressants also. John schedule for taking the suppressants had not changed in the last week, that along with the stench of fear evident in his room where he would have started his heat told Sherlock that John had been caught unawares.  
  
More reason for him to get out of the flat before he did something John would despise him for.  
  
He took another step back, ready to turn and sprint the moment his body and mind stopped their tug of war. He thought of John leaving, of him packing his things and moving out of 221B Baker Street and out of Sherlock’s life. The next steps came a small bit easier.  
  
“Sherlock?”  
  
John’s voice. It was raw and trembling, nothing like Sherlock was used to hearing. He froze in place, his hard won retreat stalled at the sound of his mate’s uncertainty.  
  
_Mine My Mate My John Needs me Need him_ tumbled around inside his brain again. Only when a ragged moan met his ears did he realize the thoughts were tumbling out of his mouth.  
  
“Sherlock - yes, need you…Please!” John was there, just there on the other side of the door, calling to him, telling Sherlock he needed him.  
  
The very Hounds of Hell couldn’t have dragged him away after that.  
  
Sherlock felt it, the strange sensation of going Alpha as he watched himself kick the door open. The wood splintered at the jamb, pieces flying through the air to land across the seemingly haphazardly placed books, papers, and other odds and ends that filled his room.  
  
Sherlock barley registered the discarded pajamas that definitely were not his own as he stalked to the bed, his focus on the writhing mass at its center. He grabbed the duvet and top sheet, ripping them back to a new cloud of concentrated scent custom made for him alone. The undiluted smell of his omega nearly brought him to his knees.  
  
The sheets were covered in slick and John was on his back, completely naked. The fingers of his right hand were shoved into his arse, and his left hand was wrapped around a lovely pink cock. The sight was a shock to Sherlock, so incongruous to the usual stoic Doctor, and he blinked at the writhing creature that was one John Watson for several seconds. The achingly beautiful image being was burned so deeply into a newly devoted room in his mind palace that no amount of effort would be able to delete.  
  
Tendrils wrapped around his brain, luscious coiling things that beckoned him closer to the man in his bed, tugging him down like weights around his neck until he found himself on all fours over John’s smaller frame. He buried his face in John’s neck, inhaling deep and long from the very fount. John wriggled underneath him, and Sherlock growled our a low warning. The omega stopped moving, letting out a quavering moan as he turned his head, offering his throat in submission. Sherlock hummed his pleasure at the gesture as he skimmed his teeth along the bared throat. He would be sinking his teeth in that lovely expanse as soon as his knot was wringing an orgasm from his soon to be Bondmate.  
  
Pressed so close to the source of his arousal, Sherlock could still detect a slight trace of apprehension tainting the smell. His alpha instinct roared in disapproval and he set to chase it away, to reassure his mate that he was safe and protected. Moving on instinct, he offered his own neck, feeling a pulse of heat to his already aching cock as John tried to press his face to scent him. Instead of reassuring the omega, Sherlock could hear frustrated whimpers as trembling and slick soaked fingers tried unsuccessfully to pull his scarf away from his skin.  
  
Suddenly, the only thing Sherlock wanted to do was strip off his clothes so his omega could scent him unhindered. He did it in record time, each item tossed carelessly away except his coat, which John had latched his fingers into and would not release. After another distressed sound answered his trying to pry it away, Sherlock relented. He wanted to calm his omega, to chase away the last of his fears, not agitate him more.  
  
John pressed his face into Sherlock’s neck, breathing deep and fast, rubbing his face into as well as nipping roughly along the gland. Sherlock felt his cock throb, his body more than ready for the bite John would place there during the bonding. Sherlock felt the brushed wool of his coat along his back as John wrapped his body around him desperately, instinct driven whines of need escaping him as he thrust his omega cock alongside Sherlock’s much larger alpha one.  
  
Sherlock had no idea how long John had been in his room, waiting in fear and torment for him to return. Any wait was too long. He wrapped his arms around John as he allowed the omega to frantically scent him, the alpha in him furious that he had left the omega unguarded and alone.  
  
He needed to touch him, taste him, make sure he was whole and unharmed. He pressed his nose into the compact body, rubbing his face as he went. He slid his lips over the starburst scar on John’s left shoulder, pressing soft kisses into the evidence of his omega’s bravery. He licked and sucked at his chest, teasing the dusky pink nipples and smelling the gush of slick that answered his attentions. He relished the deep throated cries that met his ears as he worked his way to John’s lovely cock. When he finally reached it, he pulled it entirely into his mouth, suckling it gently as he swirled the heady taste of slick onto his tongue- no doubt deposited as lubrication during John’s earlier self-ministrations.  
  
As he sucked the delicious cock - rather large for an omega if his scarce knowledge of the subject was correct - he slid his right hand down to trace the edge of John’s dripping entrance with his fingertips. John let out a short shout, sounding muffled and Sherlock stopped for a moment to look up to make sure he hadn’t done something wrong.  
  
John had Sherlock’s coat gathered in both hands and he was mashing his face into the collar, moaning and gasping, breathing in the fresh deposited scent of his alpha. Sherlock pulled off the cock in his mouth with a pop, replacing his caresses with his now slick-wet fingers as he abandoned that exploration for the new, entirely necessary exploration with his tongue.  
  
Never looking away from the way his mate was pressing his scent directly to his face, he licked at the quivering entrance to John’s body. The taste of him burst into his mouth like fresh fruit, juicy and decadent. He rubbed his face into it with near violence. He thrust his tongue as deep as it would go, feeling the passage part for him with ease as he wriggled the muscle. He began to thrust it in and out, feeling the twitch of the cock in his hand jump in time to his thrusts. Sherlock was no stranger to addiction, but no drug he had ever tried threatened addiction like the taste of John’s natural slick.  
  
He feasted on John, licking and sucking, each new rush of lubrication assuring him he was doing something right. Every so often he would pull away to suck dark bruises on the inside of quivering thighs. No longer able or caring about censoring his words, he found himself speaking filth that would usually never pass his lips.  
  
“Fuck yes, you taste so good,” after a swipe across John’s leaking hole. John’s breathing hitched at the deep baritone, and he squirmed as Sherlock’s tongue returned.  
  
Sherlock could feel John‘s thighs tremble. He let go of the omega‘s cock to push his hands behind his knees, angling so he could push as deeply with his tongue as possible. “Come on,” Sherlock growled, flicking at the rim, “show me how much you want it.” The cries muffled in the coat became more animalistic as between thrusts Sherlock encouraged him. “So good, so beautiful,” he crooned, dropping his voice into a demanding growl he ground out, “My perfect little Omega, gush for me.” At which John cried out and did just that.  
  
The new rush of slick was completely and purely John; all the trace amounts of fear and anxiety finally gone from his scent. Sherlock lapped it up before pulling away to climb between John’s legs, holding him wide as he lined himself up with John’s entrance. John still had his face covered with Sherlock’s coat, something that until now hadn’t bothered him. Now that it was interfering with the view of his omega’s face, it became immediately imperative that the offending fabric be removed. He sank his fingers into it, wrenching it away. John immediately made his protest known, twisting towards where Sherlock had thrown it away, his hand outstretched to retrieve the scent laden security blanket.

“No!” Sherlock snapped, grabbing John’s hand and twining their fingers together as he leaned over him. “You don’t need that when I’m right here.” He emphasized this by pressing his body on top of the omega’s, the struggling having dislodged his cock from where he had positioned it earlier. He rectified that now, using his free hand to press the head back to where it longed to be, back to the ripe opening of John’s arse. He nudged his face into John’s neck, feeling him relax beneath him as he scraped his teeth along the unbroken gland. His omega mirrored him, the paltry scent of the coat forgotten as he buried his own face in his alpha’s neck. Just like Sherlock found John’s scent perfectly tailored to him, so did John find the alpha’s.  
  
He smelled like home, like aged furniture and old books, like warmth and rare solidarity, like pride and arrogance and acceptance, a tiny whiff of sharp smelling chemicals and danger. And safety, someone who John knew he could trust in his most vulnerable state. He no longer held any fear, any shade of the nightmare that had haunted him through his last terrible heat. Sherlock was perfect for him, a whirlwind match to his staunch heart. They revolved around each other, fitting together in the perfect give and take of their relationship.  
  
Sherlock felt it: John drinking up his scent. He could smell their pheromones mingling in the air of the room. They teased him, tantalizing his nose in a not-quite-right swirl of mixing scents. Beneath him, John must have noticed too, because he began to roll his hips, trying to draw Sherlock into his aching hole.  
  
Sherlock leaned on his right elbow, balancing while keeping their fingers intertwined. With his left hand, he pushed the sweat darkened hair off of John’s forehead before he used the same hand to steady John’s knee as he pushed the head of his cock into the sodden heat awaiting him.  
  
John stared at him, his eyes full of desire and need as he begged, “Sherlock, please! I need it-I need you…” His words trailed off as Sherlock slid in several more inches.  
  
“Don’t worry, I'm here, gonna bite you, gonna fuck you, gonna make you mine…”  
  
As he pushed his whole length in, the omega arched under him shouting, “Yes!  Fuck yes!”   Sherlock stared, watching as his Omega threw his head back and bared his throat as a new rush of pheromones burst in the air at his pleasure. Any remnant of caution urging him to go slowly faded as his own answering rush filled the air, charging the atmosphere to desperation as they rutted together.  
  
He buried his face in the offered neck, sucking bruises to match the ones on John’s inner thighs. John cried out his alpha’s name as he reached his first orgasm, ejaculate trapped between their bodies and helping them to slip against one another. Immediately, Sherlock’s knot began to throb as it swelled, catching and stretching on each thrust into John’s arse. He felt nails sink into his back as John snapped his head to bite at Sherlock shoulder. Sherlock growled, sinking his teeth in warning as John’s biting climbed closer to his scent gland. To his dismay, a burst of fear filled his mouth as John began to panic beneath him.  
  
“Sorry! I’m sorry,” John babbled. “I didn’t-I didn’t mean…ohh, FUCK!”  
  
Sherlock didn’t understand, he didn’t know how to calm his mate as John brought the fingers that had been digging into the alpha’s back to his mouth, where he began to bite at them while he whimpered in distressed little cries. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t stop thrusting, forcing his growing knot just a bit farther in as it began to catch due to its growing girth.  
  
This was all wrong, he had only wanted to be sure John would wait to bite him at the same time as he bit John. He certainly hadn’t expected the tears that were threatening to leak from the clenched corners of his beloved omega’s eyes. A tiny voice was saying _‘He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want to bond with you’_ in Sherlock’s mind. It incensed him, the fact that this man, this creature who was so clearly already his, already living and nesting in his territory, would deny him the formality of a bonding bite. How dare he, only mere moments away from being knotted, moments away from being bitten, refuse Sherlock.  
  
He would bite him when his knot locked them together, he would force the bond if he had to. There was no fucking way he was letting John, who was so obviously his, get away. He’d lock him away, deny him his suppressants, he fuck and bite and mark and rut until John knew who the fuck he belonged to. Starting now.  
  
He could feel his knot catching, unable to get through now that it had almost reached its full size. His Omega’s distress was fighting against it, tightening in reaction and defense. Sherlock refused to be denied. He released John’s hand, wrapping his arms around the solid weight of his Omega before he threw his own weight backwards, pulling the startled omega into his lap. The sudden movement caused John to grab at Sherlock for balance and the shift in weight allowed the knot to pop inside.  
  
Another splatter of ejaculate hit Sherlock’s chest. He groaned, low and deep as the resulting spasms convulsed around his cock, pressing liquid fire into his knot and coiling up into his gut.  
  
Why would his Omega reject him? He was obviously pleasing him, the creature had been found in his bed, covered in his scent. What was wrong with him? Did John want another alpha?  
  
Jealousy sliced through him at the thought of John with someone else, someone who didn’t understand him, didn’t cherish him the way Sherlock did, the way could.  
  
In moments when he had been more rational, he had observed John, felt pleasure coil in the primitive part of his brain he tried to ignore at seeing the man in his territory. He had never cared that John was a beta, had never thought of him as less pleasing a companion because of what he had been biologically. Even then, knowing he had no chance to bind John to him irrevocably, he had been protective and possessive. The few betas the man had dated had been woefully inadequate for John. John was special, unique and unexpectedly brilliant. And he was Sherlock’s.  
  
Catching John’s hands, he pulled them behind the smaller man's back. John didn’t struggle as Sherlock grasped both his wrists in his left hand, sliding his right up to twist in the short blonde hair as he pressed his mouth to John’s. He licked into it, working his hips in circular motions to roll his knot inside John’s arse in time with sucking on John’s tongue. John moaned through the kiss, his lips moving in tandem as they explored each other's mouths. Sherlock bit at the wet lips, tugging as he worked his swollen knot back and forth.  
  
“You’re mine,” he growled out between bites. “Not letting you go.” He twisted his finger in John’s short curls, wrenching his neck to the side as he settled his teeth over the special gland and pushing John’s face into place along side his matching one. He knew when he bit, it would be next to impossible for John to resist completing the bond. He move his hips in earnest, dragging his swollen knot back and forth minutely, the stretch causing John to buck and quiver on his lap. Sherlock felt his orgasm approaching on a wave of heated desire and possessiveness, “Gonna bite you so everyone knows.”  
  
“Yes, yes!” John was crying into his neck, the last conscious thought Sherlock heard as white heat shot through him from his chest to his cock. He came, locked inside John’s snug heat and he bit down savagely, the scent of another wave of John’s ejaculate reaching him through the fog as he felt teeth pierce his own neck. He sucked at the wound, tasting blood and the distinct essence of John’s scent, changing even as it burst on his tongue. He felt the bond forming, slipping easily into place in his mind and his body, just as it should. The realization triggered another orgasm as he felt John licking over the wound he had made in Sherlock’s neck.  
  
He held his Omega, now his in full, as he came over and over inside him, John’s passage convulsing and milking his cock and knot with each pulse. He felt fingers in his own curls and realized somewhere along the way he had released John’s hands or John had pulled them free. He blinked slowly as the fog began to recede from his mind, his knot shrinking, but not quite able to slip free.  
  
He pulled his mouth away from the newly formed bond bite as he realized the enormity of what he had done. He’d forced John to bond with him, his precious, perfect, irreplaceable best friend - who had been purposely living as a beta. It didn’t matter that John’s scent was made for him, it didn’t matter that John had crawled into his bed, called out his name, spread that maddening delicious mind altering scent all over Sherlock’s sanctum.  
  
He was supposed to be the genius, the one who saw through to the very heart of things that others did not. And instead, he had allowed his base instincts to take over, to force his own desires onto a man who had once killed to protect him, who had once offered to die in his place.  
  
He leaned back, looking into grey green eyes as waves of guilt crashed over him. It was an alien feeling to Sherlock, the thought that he had done something wrong to someone. He felt his knot deflate completely, but he made no move to release the man in his arms.

The look on John’s face could only be described as rising panic. Sherlock drew a breath, not sure what he was going to say, but knowing he had to keep John in his life.  
  
Before he had a chance, John started speaking, the words tumbling out at a frantic pace.  
  
“Sherlock, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how this happened-I-I did not mean for this to happen!” As he spoke, the omega’s face grew pale. With a lurch, he pulled himself free, the scent of slick and cum mingling in the air causing both he and Sherlock to groan even as John tried to scoot away from him.  
  
Sherlock cocked his head, listening to the words flying from John’s mouth but unable to bring their meaning in line in his head. John was sitting back on his heels, his hands over his mouth and a look of horror on his face as he apologized again and again.  
  
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We just…We’re bonded…You-You never wanted that. Oh god. I am so sorry.”  
  
Sherlock now had quite more of his mental faculties present - now that the first wave of the heat was over - and he didn’t miss how John was apologizing in a way that took all the blame onto himself. And John had no problem pointing out when Sherlock went too far. As he certainly had tonight, even he could see that.  
  
But was John giving him that patented look of disappointment? Telling him with that voice that acted as his rare flash of conscience that whatever he had done had been a bit not good?  
  
He shifted, moving to his hands and knees as a smile began to spread on his lips. The look on John’s face was comical as Sherlock began to move towards him. At least he stopped apologizing.  
  
“What? Why are you doing that?” John said as he began to shift back with each move towards him Sherlock made.  
  
“Because you said that _you_ are sorry.” Sherlock continued to smile as he crawled forward. He could see the confusion on John’s face even as the man tried to evade him. “Which means that _you_ think _you_ are to blame. Which means you are not blaming _me_.”  
  
“What do you mean? Why should I? I’m the one that went into heat, I’m the one that was waiting for you in your bed, knowing you’re an alpha, knowing you had no idea I was an omega.”  
  
John had reached the end of the mattress just as Sherlock was waiting for him to do. The moment his balance shifted, Sherlock pounced, grabbing him and turning to throw him back onto the center of the bed. John let out a surprised yelp, but he didn’t try to fight Sherlock off when he buried his face back into his neck to lick gently at the bond bite. He felt John stiffen in surprise. He continued to bathe the mark gently, smelling the newly formed scent rise in the air as John’s arousal began to grow.  
  
“This shows everyone what we both already knew: you’re mine. There’s no going back now, no hiding it. You smell like me and I smell like you. Don’t you dare apologize for that.” He spoke the words into John’s skin, his own scent of satisfaction and pride at acquiring such a perfect mate rising in the room, reassuring John in the most instinctual way. He knew the moment John accepted the words at truth, his own relief felt by his bonded alpha. “If I’d known you were an omega, I would have done this long ago.”  
  
“You mean, you’re alright that were bonded? You’re not angry?” John’s voice wavered, the uncharacteristic insecurity returning with the second wave of his heat. He nudged his face into his Alpha’s neck, tentatively scenting their mingled bouquet there.  
  
“Only angry that I wasn’t here when you needed me, that you were afraid when it started up and I wasn’t here to protect you like an alpha is supposed to do for his mate.”  
  
Once again, pheromones filled the air and Sherlock could practically feel his IQ dropping in perfect synchronization with their rise. His burrowing in John’s neck became more forceful as his words became decidedly less elegant.  
  
“Mine,” he growled, dropping his voice low on purpose when he felt the shiver that accompanied it, “all mine.”  
  
“God yes, yours.” John did his best to spread his legs, arching off the bed to offer Sherlock the best angle.  
  
“How can you smell so good?” Sherlock asked as he lined them up. “Need my cock in you again.” He thrust it in in one go, snapping his hips forward into the welcoming heat.  
  
“Ah!,” John cried out at the sudden intrusion.  
  
Sherlock pulled back, a long slow glide before snapping forward again and jolting another deep throated cry from his Omega’s throat. He set up a slow pace, occasionally thrusting in deep without warning, listening to the sounds of skin and slick and growling - coming from himself, he thought absently. But the best sounds were those of his mate, calling his name, encouraging him.  
  
“There Sherlock, oh fuck _yes_ , right there!”  
  
Muscular legs wrapped around Sherlock’s waist as he pushed up, taking his weight onto his forearms so he could watch John's face as he pushed him towards orgasm. John braced himself against the headboard with his right arm, tightening his legs to give Sherlock the perfect angle. The head of his alpha’s cock hit it on each thrust, quickly building him to another orgasm. “Sherlock!,” he shouted as he came again, his body quivering in pleasure even as it prepared him to climb to a peak once more. Sherlock kept up his pace, increasing it gradually until John could feel the knot start to form. It popped in and out as it grew, catching on his rim and sending electric shocks straight into his cock.    
  
Sherlock could see it, the pleasure building in him as his knot grew. There would be no resistance from his Omega this time, no need to lift him up and use gravity to assist his knot’s entrance. Pleasure built at the base of his spine as he pushed it in, locking him and his mate as he released the first wave of his orgasm inside. He drank in the sight of John coming with him, his seed painting new stripes across his chest where the evidence of his earlier completions were mixing into an impressive mess.  
  
Sherlock pushed himself up to kneel between John's legs, smearing his hand through the mess and bringing it to his mouth. He licked it from his fingers, sucking each one into his mouth before swiping up more. Another flutter of orgasm rippling through him as he tasted his Omega’s essence. The sight of his tongue dragging along his palm in a show of exaggerated sensuality drew a long, low moan from John. On his third swipe instead of bringing his prize to his mouth, he wrapped his hand around his omega’s still hard cock and began to pump it in a brutal rhythm.  
  
His eyes fluttered as John’s channel convulsed around him, enticing him to thrust gently as he stroked over the head of John’s cock. He caught the foreskin in his fingers, sliding it up and over the glistening pink glans, over and over he teased him. “Come on,“ Sherlock murmured, “you can do it, once more for me, Love. That’s it.“ The legs that had relaxed their grip on his waist returned with a vengeance, pushing the knot further inside as John came again.  
  
As he came down, his mind clearing a bit until the next wave of heat started, John realized that there was no trace of his earlier anxiety. This is how a heat should be: sweat and sex and scent, an alpha - _his_ Alpha - straining over him to provide him with endless orgasms and knot him until he passed out from the pleasure. There should be no fear, no nightmares, no thoughts of blood and death. A heat should be spent making love, pausing only to eat and sleep for as long as necessary until the haze finally lifted, leaving both alpha and omega completely exhausted and totally satisfied.  
  
Sherlock was giving him all of that in spades, something John had never expected, and had only begrudgingly admitted to himself he had desired. And on top off all that, there was the scent of love and security, the feeling of being desired and cherished.  
  
It was an unusual dynamic for the pair, John usually being the one who protected his more reckless counterpart. John knew Sherlock would never expect him to change who he was, how he acted. He wouldn’t expect John to stay at home and start a whelp of pups. Just as John was not the typical Omega, Sherlock was not the typical Alpha.

He ran his hands up Sherlock’s arms, tangling them in his curls as he pulled him down for a gentle kiss. They kissed and nuzzled at each other for long minutes, continuing even after Sherlock’s knot shrank and slipped out. John became more and more unresponsive, though the alpha continued to scent the omega even after the latter had fallen asleep. He needed to provide his omega with sustenance. Some latent alpha instinct told Sherlock that they would have time to eat and sleep for a short time before the next wave struck.  
  
He pulled away, slipping from the bed to head to the kitchen. That was more John’s area, but he needed to do this for now. He paused, scooping his coat from the floor and pressing it into John’s hand. He smiled when his omega closed his fingers over, pulling up and over his body as he turned to snuggle with it in the bed.  
  
He didn’t bother pulling on his robe. This was his territory, full of the scent of him and his omega’s newly formed bond. The aroma would warn anyone away from their nest; as an alpha, Sherlock would snap into defense mode at the first sign of intrusion.  
  
Which is exactly what he did when he came down the stairs to find Anthea entering the flat.  
  
Only the fact that she was an omega stopped him from attacking her. He doubted his brother would appreciate him wounding his Bondmate either.  
  
“Calm down,” Anthea said, looking at her phone as she raised her other arm. Sherlock could see a bag filled with water bottles and prepackaged food items. “Mycroft sent me over. With supplies.”  
  
At that she glanced up from her phone, her eyes taking in Sherlock’s naked form without even a hint of interest before they flicked back to her phone. “Think you can control yourself while I get the rest?”  
  
Sherlock slowly left his crouch, wondering how Mycroft had talked his mate into delivering groceries.  
  
As she made a few more trips Sherlock watched her. She certainly wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful or accommodating or fascinating as his John. As a bonded omega, she didn’t present much of a problem, but with his own omega upstairs resting he couldn’t risk even the smallest threat. When she had left and he was sure his territory was once again secure, he grabbed all the bags in one go, carrying them to his room to feed his mate before the next wave of the heat hit.  
  
He opened a bottle of water and sat on the bed, looking down at his new mate - the Omega to his Alpha, the love of his life. John stirred at the sound of the water bottle opening and Sherlock passed it to him before opening an energy bar that was specially designed with the nutrition needs of an omega in heat. He broke a bite sized piece off before moving  his hand to John's mouth to offer it to him.  
  
As John looked at it in surprise before offering Sherlock a shy smile and eating it directly from his hand, Sherlock realized he would have to thank his brother later.  
  
Somehow, he was sure he wouldn’t mind.  


* * *

  
Epilogue

* * *

  
John came downstairs after his much needed shower. He had pulled on some soft pajama bottoms and an old jumper. He was slightly disappointed that Sherlock was already back to his usual self so soon, when he was still floating on the fuzzy cloud of complete sexual lethargy.  
  
His Alpha - well, that certainly had a lovely ring to it - was heating something up on the stove in an item that John was sure wasn‘t meant for the kitchen. John sipped from the water bottle in his hand - one of the last ones from their stock - as he watched his mad scientist of a mate sprinkle powder into the beaker.  
  
Sherlock swirled it around before proclaiming, “These are all placebos, nothing more than sugar pills.”  
  
Ah. His suppressants. They hadn’t finished shagging more than twenty minutes ago and already Sherlock was working on The Mystery of the Failed Suppressants.  
  
“How’s that possible? They come pre-packaged in that little foil thing and it already has placebos in it, the dark green ones at the end of the pack. Those are the ones I skip, starting into a new pack to keep from having a heat.”  
  
Sherlock stopped swirling the liquid in the beaker, casting his stunning eyes on John with a look that made the omega’s knees feel like jelly. “I hope you might consider not skipping that row every once in a while now.”  
  
“Well,“ John’s voice squeaked embarrassingly and he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the newfound interest Sherlock turned on him with the sound. “Well,” he tried again. No squeak this time. Good. “I think I could be persuaded to do that.”  
  
“You were only two days into the pack. How long does it take for a heat to start if you miss a pill?”  
  
“Two days.”  
  
“So this whole pack is compromised.” Sherlock set the beaker down with a thump.  
   
Thankfully, the drugs were designed to prevent pregnancy as well. The last row of dark green pills marked a safe period of seven days, and John’s heat only lasted three. So, counting the two days he had taken, and the three they had-  
  
“You still have two days John. You’re perfectly safe from an unplanned pregnancy.”  
  
Just as quickly as he had looked at John, he looked away, focusing back on the pills. “Best to chuck the lot in the bin. I’ll call Mycroft and have some more delivered. From now on, I’ll test a random pill from each pack to make sure they are safe.”  
  
“What? I don’t think that’s necessary-” John started to argue, but he was cut off.  
  
“Really John? What happens if you go into heat while we’re on a case?”  
  
John felt a little jab of pain. Of course Sherlock wouldn’t want his heats to interfere with their cases, but it still hurt him a little to think of it that way.  
  
“If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” Sherlock tone was matter-of-fact and spoken to the room rather than to John. Still, the clarification that the action was for John’s safety and concern as a mate chased away the hurt instantly.  
  
Sherlock’s phone chimed and he moved to get it, apparently done with John’s suppressants for the moment. John shook his head and put the kettle on, really wanting a good cup of tea after three days with nothing but water. He wondered if he could talk Sherlock into a trip to Angelo’s later. He really wanted something to eat other than energy bars. He could almost imagine the grin that would greet them when Angelo realized they were now Bondmates.  
  
Sherlock plopped on the couch and looked at his text, the number one he didn’t recognize. There was no signature to give him a clue either.  
  
_How did you like my present?_  
  
_What present? - SH_  
  
_Your new omega, obviously_.  
  
He sat up, back ramrod straight as his mind whirled. Whoever it was must have been the one responsible for John’s bad batch of suppressants.  
  
_Who is this? - SH_  
  
_I thought I owed you for saving my life. Too bad you weren’t an omega, maybe then I could have claimed you instead. Enjoy your new mate. I always knew the two of you were perfect for each other. I still can’t believe you didn’t realize he was an omega. - TW_  
  
TW. The Woman.  
  
Of course she was responsible. It made perfect sense.  
  
The coil of unease loosened as the mystery and the threat to his mate was solved.  
  
He tossed his phone to the other end of the couch and looked up. He studied his Bondmate, watching John move about the kitchen as he was making tea. Really, he was perfect.  
  
“John,” he called out, watching as the smaller man turned, two cups of tea in his hands.  
  
“Yeah?” his mate asked as he made his way towards him.  
  
“I’d like to be able to watch you without your heat interfering with my cognitive functions. What would you say to another round of sexual intercourse? ”  
  
John’s froze in place, his cuppa halfway to his lips. He blinked at Sherlock for a few seconds, his interest already evident by their mingled scent rising in the room.  
  
“Oh, god yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it! I hope you enjoyed reading this little fic! Please feel free to leave any questions or comments.


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